


Devotion

by lexus_grey



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Blood, F/F, The 100 (TV) Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 13:43:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20359471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexus_grey/pseuds/lexus_grey
Summary: For the 2019 kink meme prompt:Not only do the winners in the fighting pit get to keep their lives, but they also get an opportunity to show their devotion to Blodreina right after.+ Body worship++ Octavia not letting them wash the blood off themselves first+++ Octavia straight up licking the blood off them++++ Repeat offenders must do more to prove their devotion, up to the writer to decide what that means





	Devotion

**Author's Note:**

> yu reya = you raw  
Set daun = Stay down.  
Hod yu rein daun = Mind your place.  
Yu tombom dula laud kom nau = Your heart beats loud right now.  
Yu krei gaf ai hod ma rein daun? = Do you really want me to mind my place?  
Ai nou = I don't.  
Wigod ai op = Forgive me.  
Ste non wigod op = There is nothing to forgive.

Octavia stood up sharply when she saw Niylah in the pit. “Get her out of there,” she commanded, her voice echoing around the cavernous arena. “What idiot put her in there?” She hated to show such flagrant emotion, but Jesus Christ.

“Blodreina, she stole food,” Miller informed her from his place a few feet to her right.

“What? Why would she do that?” Her head snapped back to Niylah. “Why would you do that? You have plenty of food.” Of all the things she’d seen and done, this was the one that was going to make her sick.

Niylah gave nothing away. Her reasons were her own. She just raised her chin toward the queen in a quiet mix of defiance and deference.

Octavia slammed her staff on the ground and angrily retook her seat. For the first time she debated shutting down the arena, but she couldn’t afford to look weak. To be weak. She held down the threatening bile and gave the signal for the fight to begin.

Niylah did not like to fight, but that didn’t mean she was not good at fighting. She deftly picked up a blade and did not hesitate. Five minutes later she was the last one standing, surrounded by bodies and covered in blood. It was matted in her hair and dripped from her hands; it was smeared across her face and it drenched her clothes. She let the sword clatter to the floor and turned to look up at the queen, keeping her expression blank.

Octavia’s heart was racing like a jackhammer the entire way through, and she carefully concealed her shuddering breath of relief when Niylah was the victor. She didn’t know what she would have done if—she actually couldn’t even think about it. She was still stick to her stomach as she vaulted down into the arena, taking care to land in a semi-dry spot to avoid slipping. She walked up to Niylah and all the fear of the last ten minutes raged up and came bursting out in a vicious slap to her most treasured friend’s face.

The crowd silenced in an instant, everyone staring at the queen. That was certainly a novel reaction.

Octavia let the blow sting for a moment before she grabbed Niylah around the throat and placed her lips against the grounder’s ear. “What were you thinking?”

Niylah held back tears at the rebuke, and at the queen’s question she finally explained herself, too quietly for anyone else to overhear. “I wanted a chance to show my devotion.”

Octavia nearly choked out a sob at the stupidity and irony of that, her hand tightening around Niylah’s throat. “Don’t you know I would have let you if you asked?” she whispered, pulling back to look at her captive. And for the first time Octavia could remember, Niylah looked stunned.

“What?” Niylah breathed, her heart pounding against her rib cage in a violent flurry of action.

“You really don’t know?” Octavia asked. “I would have let you do anything. I _would_ let you do anything. You’re the only person I—how dare you put yourself at risk like that?”

The queen stepped back and motioned for Indra and Kara to start the process of getting everyone out of the room. Then she just stood staring at Niylah while it emptied.

Niylah didn’t know which way was up at the moment, Octavia’s revelation confusing and uplifting all at once. She watched everyone leaving the room, for lack of something better to do and not wanting to stare at Octavia.

When the doors were shut and they were alone, Octavia dragged her into a fierce hug. “I should whip _yu reya_,” she admonished, her voice cracking slightly. “And if you ever do this again, I will.”

“I’m sorry, I—” Niylah started to apologize and explain herself, but Octavia cut her off.

“No, no. That’s enough of my weakness,” the queen said, shaking her head as she took a few steps back. “Now… you wanted a chance to show your devotion.” She waved one hand in front of herself in a gesture of invitation. “So come worship me.”

Niylah’s breath caught and she slowly closed the distance between them, reverently resting her hands on Octavia’s waist. “You don’t want me to shower first, my queen? You deserve—”

“I deserve the warrior in front of me,” Octavia interrupted her again.

That was all Niylah needed to hear; that Octavia wouldn’t be repulsed by the blood and dirt and grime of the arena that bathed her. She reached up to remove Octavia’s armor, respectfully setting it aside, and then stripped her queen piece by piece until everything was laid bare to her. Every expanse of skin was new and wondrous, and she feathered her fingertips across impossible softness underlaid with grit and muscle. “Blodreina,” she breathed, smoothing her hands across Octavia’s shoulders, smearing them with blood. “You’re so beautiful.”

“You,” Octavia said, pressing a palm to Niylah’s breastbone, “call me Octavia.”

The request was not trivial, and Niylah did not view it as such. It was hard for her to entertain the concept of removing the queen’s proper title, but it also pleased and comforted her in ways she wouldn’t have imagined. She nodded, continuing her path from shoulders down across impressively strong arms.

“And you’re the one who’s beautiful, Niylah. In every way a person can be beautiful.”

Niylah felt the tinge of a blush dust her cheeks and she ducked her head to press a kiss to the side of the queen’s neck, both as an escape and a distraction. When Octavia let out a soft moan, though, it became less of a tactic and more of a genuine desire to have her mouth on this woman. Jealousy flared when she thought of all the other victors who were allowed this same privilege and she bit down on Octavia’s neck with a growl.

Octavia gasped, not having expected it, but she wasn’t stupid. She could tell what Niylah was thinking. “Do you think I have allowed the other victors free reign?” she asked, arching an eyebrow. “I tell them what to do and they obey. I do not… under any circumstances… let them use their mouths on anything other than my boots,” she added pointedly. “If you’re going to be jealous, at least be jealous for the right reasons.” The last was said in a teasing tone and she turned her face to capture Niylah’s lips with her own. Their tongues came together in a brief battle and she conceded to the grounder, allowing Niylah to dominate the kiss. Little noises escaped that she couldn’t hold back, and when the kiss broke her voice came out gravelly and low. “I want to see you, too.”

Niylah took off her own clothes with some difficulty, more blood brushing across her chest and legs as she did so, but she was finally as naked as Octavia, and before she could blink their bodies were pressed together, flush from shoulders to hips. She threw out a question to cover up how imbalanced she suddenly felt now that this was happening. “You’re sure the bl—”

Octavia grabbed Niylah by the hair and dragged the flat of her tongue up the side of her face, licking away a stripe of the smeared blood, and then did it again for good measure. “Shut up,” she demanded, a smirk pulling at one corner of her mouth as she swallowed.

Niylah was not prepared for the erotic rush that accompanied Octavia licking the blood from her skin. She raised a shaking hand, soaked in blood that still dripped from her fingertips, and painted Octavia’s lips with the sticky, viscous liquid.

Octavia’s eyes rolled back, her breathing hot and fast, and she swiped her tongue across her lips until they were as clean as she could get them without firmer pressure. A soft moan escaped at the taste; the feel as the leftover blood started to dry, almost a pinching sensation. “Get the rest of it,” she growled softly.

Niylah leaned in and worried the rest off with her teeth, bloody hands gripping Octavia’s waist, leaving fingerprints behind. She didn’t like the taste, but she liked the act; the symbolism. Purifying her queen in the basest way possible. “I want somewhere to lay you down,” she complained as she glanced around the arena. The only place other than the cold stone floor was on top of bodies, and she didn’t want to share Octavia, even with empty flesh.

“Are you giving me orders?” Octavia teased, nipping at Niylah’s jaw.

“Mmm,” Niylah purred, leaning into the touch. “What I meant was… I would be forever grateful if we could go somewhere else… so I can lay you down and properly worship you, my queen.”

“That sounds much more devoted,” Octavia purred back, nibbling her way to Niylah’s ear and kissing the lobe. “Follow me.”

\--

Indra had mapped out a path months ago that would get Octavia safely to her quarters in an emergency, and though this could hardly be qualified as an emergency, it was still _her_ path and she took it so they wouldn’t have to bother getting dressed. She knew Kara would clean up their clothes and polish her armor, so she left all of that behind.

Niylah looked around in awe at the queen’s quarters, momentarily distracted by artifacts and drawings she’d never seen before.

Octavia barred the doors and stepped up behind Niylah, wrapping arms around her and stroking her belly. “No one’s been in here… except Indra for safety protocols.”

Attention crashing back to the queen at the hands on her, Niylah leaned her head back onto Octavia’s shoulder. “When I said somewhere more comfortable I didn’t think you’d bring me to your private rooms,” she said softly.

“Niylah,” Octavia sighed, running her hands up and down the grounder’s sides. “You’re the only person who can make me feel anything besides anger.”

Niylah felt the sting of tears and blinked them away, turning in Octavia’s arms to look at her. “You can’t say things like that unless you want me to start crying like a baby,” she whispered with a sort-of smile.

Octavia smirked. “But do you know how angry I was when I saw you in the pit?”

Niylah had the good grace to blush. “I’m sorry,” she tried again to apologize.

“I would have had to step in if it looked like you weren’t going to win, and then I would look _weak_.” The queen spat the last word as if it held venom. “That would be a death sentence for me. Did you think about that before you stole food you didn’t need?”

Niylah dropped her eyes to the floor. “Blodreina, I—”

“I said you call me Octavia,” the queen cut her off once again. “Just because I’m talking about something that made me angry doesn’t mean you can’t still call me Octavia.”

“I had no idea you would step in for me,” Niylah said quietly, eyes still fixed on the floor.

“Haven’t I always?” Octavia whispered, a hand moving to cup Niylah’s cheek.

Niylah’s breath left her in a rush and she turned them around, then pushed Octavia backwards until they reached the bed. “Yes,” she finally answered the question that she didn’t know how to process. “Lay down, _Okteivia_,” she commanded a moment later.

Octavia raised an eyebrow but crawled across the bed, looking over her shoulder as she slowly rolled over and stretched out on her back.

Niylah took a moment to stand above her queen and stare down at the naked beauty, pale skin streaked with blood, a curiously dominant yet vulnerable expression on her face, her eyes a bit wide and expectant. Maybe she took too long, because Octavia started to sit up. “_Set daun_,” she said with a little half smirk.

Octavia’s eyebrows hit the roof. “_Hod yu rein daun_,” she said smoothly. But… she lay back down.

“_Yu tombom dula laud kom nau. Yu krei gaf ai hod ma rein daun_?”

Instead of anger at the insolence, Octavia reached up and ran her fingers through Niylah’s matted hair. “_No_,” she answered. “_Ai nou_.”

“No,” Niylah agreed, moving onto her hands and knees above Octavia. “You want me to worship you.”

“Yes,” Octavia admitted, letting her hand drop back to her side.

“Every part of you is so beautiful,” Niylah said softly, leaning down to kiss her way across the queen’s forehead and down one side of her face.

“Ni—”

“Don’t argue… please.” It was Niylah’s turn to interrupt, and when Octavia quieted, she continued her downward path. Lips trailed over the soft skin of the queen’s neck, her tongue sliding out to lick circles across one shoulder before leaving a tiny bite on her way down an arm.

Octavia’s hips twitched impatiently. How long had she wanted this? Wanted Niylah? She wasn’t even sure, but she knew it was long enough for the slow pace to torture her.

Niylah kept her smirk to herself and kissed her way back up the same arm, then repeated the process on Octavia’s other side. When the queen’s hips twitched again she used both of her hands to hold them still while her mouth laved attention across a well-defined collarbone. “Even this is beautiful,” came the whispered words of devotion. “Your collarbone… perfectly sculpted. And your skin tastes divine…”

Octavia was dangerously close to saying please. She couldn’t remember the last time she had asked for something instead of commanding it. Her nipples were aching; impossibly hard, and she could feel the slickness between her legs. “Niylah,” she rasped, hoping that would be enough.

“_Osleya_,” Niylah responded. “Your muscles." She moved her hands from Octavia’s hips to her biceps and squeezed. “You could tear people in half with these arms.” She didn’t fail to notice the way Octavia’s nipples were begging for attention, she just wasn’t ready to cross that line yet. She moved her hands beneath the queen’s breasts, tracing each rib separately with one fingertip.

Octavia gasped and arched her back, pressing into Niylah’s hand, throwing her head to the side and biting her cheek in an attempt not to speak. Asking was weakness and she had already shown enough of that.

Niylah’s pulse quickened at her queen’s reactions. Somehow she hadn’t thought her touch would affect Octavia quite like this. It was scary and exhilarating all at once. She dropped her head and followed the path of her fingertip with her mouth, feeling the muscles quiver beneath her.

Octavia couldn’t take much more or she would scream and demand that the grounder finish what she started, and she didn’t want to do that. Not with Niylah. “Please,” she panted softly, closing her eyes against the onslaught of embarrassment at being reduced to begging.

Niylah couldn’t stop a soft moan from escaping at hearing that word; hearing Octavia beg her. She left the line she wasn’t ready to cross in a cloud of dust, her mouth closing over one nipple as a hand sought the heat between Octavia’s legs. She let out another moan when she found Octavia wet, and she couldn’t wait any more. She slid inside her queen. Slow and deep, until two fingers were buried all the way.

Octavia cried out in reveled surprise, instantly spreading her thighs and arching her back, a hand winding in Niylah’s hair and giving a gentle squeeze. “Fuck,” she cursed, not able to form any other words but the dirtiest one.

Niylah didn’t have the same problem. “You’re wet,” she murmured as she dragged her tongue across to Octavia’s other breast. She flicked it back and forth over a pebbled nipple and then stopped to ask a question. “For me?”

Was that a real question? Who else would it be for? Octavia moaned her disapproval and squirmed against Niylah’s fingers. “Yes,” she managed to say despite not wanting to answer.

Niylah purred her appreciation and wrapped her teeth around the queen’s nipple, scraping gently, just enough to sting. And the whimper from beneath her sent a shudder down her spine. So she did it again, and then to the other nipple, and then she bit Octavia’s jaw, just enough to leave a subtle mark. She put her lips to the queen’s ear. “I have two fingers buried in your cunt, _Okteivia_,” she said, her voice low and throaty. “I’m about to have three.”

That almost made Octavia come right there. She would not have expected Niylah to have such a filthy mouth, and it was perfect. Her thighs clamped down reflexively, but she eased them back open, inviting Niylah to do whatever she wanted. “Yes.”

“If it hurts…” she pulled her fingers out and positioned a third alongside them, starting to slowly push back in, “I can stop. But I don’t want to.”

Octavia felt the stretch, the sting, the burning sensation that went along with the first, but she wouldn’t dream of telling Niylah to stop. “It’s good,” she gasped on an exhale, grabbing fistfuls of her fancy sheets.

“Good,” Niylah echoed, inching in further, swiping her thumb across Octavia’s clit and relishing the jerk of the queen’s hips in response.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as Niylah stretched her further, but when three of the grounder’s fingers were fully inside her, nothing had ever felt so good. Her body started the low thrum of that pulsing arousal that told her she was close, and her hands went from the sheets to the headboard, gripping it until her knuckles hurt.

Niylah could feel the tremble and before she knew what in the hell she was thinking, she issued a warning. “Don’t you dare come without permission.”

Octavia gave a cry of protest and almost told Niylah to mind her place again, but who could she trust if not this woman? Who could she give herself to if not this woman?

Niylah was briefly horrified at herself, but when Octavia didn’t order her executed she calmed down enough to start gently moving her fingers. And her thumb returned to the queen’s clit, this time staying there and rubbing in circles.

Her clit had always been sensitive and she wasn’t going to last long if Niylah kept rubbing like that, and—“Niylah, please,” she choked out. “Can I—can I—please,” she stammered desperately, throwing her head to the other side and flexing all the muscles in her arms as a distraction.

“_Osleya_, yes,” Niylah granted permission, her lips closing over Octavia’s throat as she pressed her fingers in hard and rubbed her thumb faster, easily bringing her queen to the edge.

Octavia’s entire world came to a staggering halt; the only thing that mattered was right there with her. She called Niylah’s name as she fell over the edge, white hot pleasure darting through her and leaving her a ragged mess beneath her lover. She was unsurprised to find her cheeks wet with tears, but couldn’t summon the outrage to be bothered by it just then. Her grip on the headboard slackened and her hands fell to rest on either side of her head as she tried to focus on re-learning how to breathe.

Niylah helped her through it and kissed away the tears, carefully working her fingers out of her queen. She brought them to her mouth and closed her eyes as she cleaned each one with her tongue, the taste even better than her fantasies had allowed. But now what? Would Octavia let her stay and do the after-sex intimacy thing? Would she be kicked out any second? And if she was kicked out, would she ever be permitted back in? She was just starting to panic when a hand around her throat dragged her down on top of Octavia, and she almost laughed at herself for freaking out so quickly. She settled down half on the bed and half on her queen, head resting on Octavia’s shoulder.

They were quiet for a long time, and finally Octavia cleared her throat. “I need you to know something.”

“That you’ll kill me if I ever try to top you again?”

“No. That I love you. I’m—I know that I do.”

All the air was suddenly sucked out of Niylah’s lungs and she wondered if her mind was playing tricks on her. What was she supposed to—“I love you too,” she said in a rush before she could talk herself out of it. She didn’t want to put herself on the line like that, but Octavia had done it first. “I have for some time now.”

“I’m sorry you didn’t know how I felt… enough that you thought you had to win my attention in the pit. You’ve always had it, Niylah. My attention, I mean. I’m kind of surprised you never noticed me staring.”

“I noticed, I just didn’t realize what it meant,” Niylah admitted with a blush.

“You’re precious, you know that?”

Niylah blushed harder and hid her face in Octavia’s neck.

“Suddenly shy? The girl who ordered me not to come without permission?”

The blush threatened to become permanent. “_Wigod ai op_…”

Octavia put a hand on the back of Niylah’s head and kissed her forehead. “_Ste non wigod op_.” And there wasn’t.


End file.
